


Ghost Towns

by Polyhexian



Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Blood, Drugs, Gen, Graphic Imagery, Humanformers, POV Third Person, it's a bad time folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Whirl and Springer go to Kaon.
Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859230
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Ghost Towns

"Oh, God, he sent the kid?" Kroma scowled, speaking in Kaonian. Whirl rolled her eyes.

"Don't you ever check your phone?" She shook her head and threw her arm around Springer's shoulders. "He's here to learn the family business." 

"Fine, you'll have to clear out the back seat though."

"What did he say?" Springer asked her. Whirl had made enough trips to Kaon by now she spoke the local language, but Springer had never picked it up. 

"He said you're in the back," she told him. He frowned, but did as he was told, tossing takeout containers out of the backseat and into the trunk while Whirl kicked her feet up on the dashboard and stole a cigarette from the center console.

"So what are we doing then?" Springer asked.

"We are going back to house," said Kroma, his thick accent a clear indication he'd prefer to talk to Whirl.

" _I'm_ gonna take a nap," said Whirl, lighting her cig, "Flying takes it outta me. You can do whatever you want. Watch tv. Go for a walk or something. Kaon's nice this time of year. Go to a street market and buy some chotskys for your friends."

Whirl leaned back in her seat and yoinked a pair of sunglasses from over the rearview mirror, settling in for the long drive through the country. 

* * *

"I couldn't find a street market."

Whirl looked up from where she was napping on the couch. "What?"

"I went for a walk," said Springer, standing in the foyer, "I couldn't find any street markets."

Whirl scowled. "Where'd you go?"

"I just went down the road, but it's all dirt, and I passed some houses, but nothing else. I don't know which way town is or how far."

Whirl sat up and groaned. "It's only like a mile and a half. Come on, I'll take you, God knows you can't haggle for shit either." She stood and walked past him, grabbing her empty backpack on the way out the door and waving him after her. 

They trudged out down the dirt path into town, mud worn thick and hard by a thousand feet before them. Whirl led him down a few turns until the roads became paved and almost abruptly things became more urban and developed. A train rumbled in the distance, the station looming just beyond a bridge covered in blanket stalls selling all sorts of things.

"You're gonna be comin' here again," Whirl told him, sticking her hands in her pockets, "You gotta learn how to get around."

"You're right," Springer said, inspecting an _I <3 Kaon _t-shirt, "Can you show me around?"

Whirl glanced back at him, blinked her one eye and shrugged. "Yeah, alright."

* * *

Whirl was asleep when she heard the yelling. Her plans to nap the week away were not going especially well. 

Following the source of the commotion she found herself in the back room, a distressed Springer being accosted by two of Kroma's goons. In the corner she saw the fixings of where they were repackaging a shipment of cocaine for travel. 

"You aren't supposed to be back here!" the first one, Hammer, snapped in Kaonian, leveling a blade at the teenage intruder. 

"What are you snoopin' around for?" said the other, Anvil.

"He can't understand you," Whirl snapped from the doorway, rolling back into the local language, "He's Impactor's nephew. Don't fuck with him."

"I don't like your tone, Whirl," Hammer sneered, lowering his blade and taking a bold step toward her, "I never do. Boss says this is your last trip. Glad to hear it."

"I bet," she responded coolly, "I ain't gonna miss your ugly mug neither."

Hammer flipped the blade around his fingers and then held it up again toward her face, a casual threat. "Nah, I like to think I'm real pretty. My face ain't scarred as the devil, at least. Maybe I oughta take that other eye for you, since you're clearly blind anyway, huh?" 

Whirl sniffed and spat, eye moving between the glint of the blade and the sneer of his teeth and then over to Springer's anxious expression. 

She snapped her forearm up and into his elbow, grabbing it in one fluid motion and twisting until she heard a pop and released, yanking the 9mm from her waistband against her back out and pointing it at him before he had time to react.

"Christ," Hammer snapped, "You broke my fucking wrist!"

"Kroma!" Whirl yelled. She waited until she heard footsteps in the hall and Kroma appeared behind her.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" he asked, sounding clearly angry, "You're here for a _week,_ could you not resist getting in a fight that long?" 

"Tell your boys to play nice," she scoffed, "I didn't start it."

"Hammer!" Kroma snapped, "The fuck did you do?"

"Nothin!" he answered angrily, gripping his wrist. Kroma looked back at Whirl and narrowed his eyes.

"Did you steal that from me?" he asked suddenly.

"It's a loan," she replied, and lowered the weapon, shoving it back into her pants. "Springs, go on, get outta here," she told him, switching languages again. He didn't need to be told twice and shuffled out of the room quickly.

"Impactor will kill every one of us if that kid comes back with a scratch on him," Whirl reminded Kroma.

"Don't remind me," he muttered, "Can't you two calm the fuck down? Stay the hell away from the kid." 

With that he left, and Whirl narrowed her eye at Hammer a moment more before he backed down and turned away.

* * *

"Come on, keep up!"

"I am keeping up! Christ, why are your legs so long?"

"God gave me one thing, kid," Whirl answered, waiting for him on the dirt path, taking a drag from her cigarette, "Legs for days."

"You're an atheist," he snapped, as he reached her and bent over, leaning on his knees and panting. As late an hour as it was, the starscape above them was vivid in the rural area and it's low light density. 

"Yup," she said, "And you're a spry motherfucker. Don't you work out? Why are you so tired?"

"We've been hiking uphill in the dark for an hour and you won't slow down!" Springer stood up and stretched, then began walking again. Whirl started, falling in step alongside him. 

"Yeah, I like givin' ya shit," she grinned, "Come on, it's gonna be worth it."

"I'm coming, aren't I?" Springer grumbled. Whirl laughed at him, and turned a corner around the trail.

"Oh, there, see that red glow?" Whirl said, perking up and pointing. Just further down the well worn, dry ground path, a bright red glow flickered beyond a dark jutting rock.

"Is this dangerous?" Springer asked.

"I told you this was dangerous," Whirl answered, squinting at him, "You could fall through the ground any second."

"Why are we here, then?!"

"I ain't never fallen through," she shrugged, "And it's real worth seein'."

Springer followed her up to the edge, eyeing graffiti spread across the ground, and then looked down into the fire burning deep within the cavern. The scent of smoke was nearly choking here, but still they gazed down, fascinated. 

"Your ma and Impactor came from the town right close to here," Whirl told him, staring down at the depths, "He was a miner when he was younger. Says that everybody here was. Mining town, and all. Hard life, I'm told, most folk die young. He prolly woulda, too, 'cept for the accident."

"I've heard this," Springer said quietly, mesmerized by the inferno.

"You ain't never heard it lookin' at it," she commented, "Shit ain't never stopped burning for the last thirty years. No mine, no money. The company that owned the mine just left. Fucked everybody over. Your ma was lucky her brother got her out. You wouldn't never have been born."

Springer was quiet for a moment. "How long have you known my uncle, anyway? You're not from here."

She sniffed. "Ran away from home durin' eighth grade after my ma tried to kill me," she said casually, with a shrug, "Took a bus outta town and ended up in Rodion. He found me sleepin' on the streets a few months later. He picks me up by the scruff and he says 'What are you doin' here, kid?'" She smirked. "And then I bit him."

"You _bit_ him?" Springer scoffed.

"Hell yeah I did," she laughed, "I was a feral bastard of a kid. Yeah, he smacked me good, but then he laughed, and he said if I stayed out there someone was gonna murder me eventually. Said I had to go home. Told him why I ran and he said 'Ah. Yeah, don't go home, then. You want a job?'" She tilted her head over to him and shrugged. "Been a Wrecker ever since." 

Springer was quiet, pensive. "Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Impactor."

"Mmhmm."

"I miss my mom," Springer admitted, when the silence stretched long and deep.

"Yeah," Whirl said, and plucked the cigarette butt from between her lips, flicking it into the pit, "I know."

* * *

"Play it cool, kid," Whirl said. She'd pulled her eye patch over her good eye and was lounging back in the airline seat, still drowsy from her mile high nap. She hated the bloated feeling in her gut, the constant roiling nausea she was trying not to show.

"It's hard," Springer said weakly, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"If you puke, I literally guarantee you will die," Whirl told him, without looking at him, "So, like. Don't do that."

"I'm doing my best," he murmured. 

The seatbelt light overhead turned off and people began rising from their seats. Whirl waved at him to wait. They didn't have any bags overhead and there wasn't any point in standing until the exodus reached their row. 

Whirl hummed along with the song she was playing on her headphones, Springer following along her heels until they were all the way off the plane and through the airport, standing out front at the pickup spot. Roadbuster's jeep rolled up beside them.

"No problems?" asked Roadbuster, as Whirl opened the passenger side door.

"Nah," said Whirl, "Never are."

"How was your first time?" Roadbuster directed toward the teenager in the backseat, who still looked somewhat ill.

"Different than I expected," Springer answered, "Kind of figured it would be a bigger deal."

"Nah, it ain't shit," said Whirl, "In a couple of months you can go back without me. Try to keep on Kroma's good side."

"Do you always feel this sick afterward?" Springer asked.

"You'll get used to it," Whirl dismissed, "You'll feel better when you're empty."

"If you say so."

Whirl checked her phone messages on the way home now that she was back on the network, and found none. She wasn't surprised, but still annoyed. She stole a cig from the center console and stared out the window. 

Whirl stood up and stretched once they'd gotten back to the complex, then turned around to watch Springer limp out of the back seat, holding his gut. Whirl frowned.

"What's wrong with you?" she prompted, "Come on, you're a man. Tough it out."

"I am toughing it out," he groaned, slamming the door shut behind him, "I am, I am, I am, I am." He made his way to the door and Whirl continued to frown, watching him walk. 

"What's wrong with him?" asked Sandstorm, sitting on the stairs outside the front door.

"Nothin' good," Whirl murmured, and followed him inside.

"Impactor!" Springer yelled, passing by open apartment doors, "I'm back! I want to get this over with, I'm done!" 

"Kid," Whirl said, squinting her single eye suspiciously at the way he was walking, the slick sheen of sweat on his skin, "Hang on."

"Uncle!" Springer yelled again, his voice breaking.

"Springer," Whirl said, more urgently.

Without any further warning, Springer suddenly cried out, a garbled wet gasp and then crumpled like paper, thrashing on the ground like he'd been electrocuted.

"Shit!" Whirl swore, all the blood in her body going ice cold. She dropped to her knees and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging his shaking head into her lap, "Somebody get Impactor!" 

"Fuck!" she heard Impactor say, caught in the myriad of sudden voices as people emerged from their rooms to see what all the commotion was about. Whirl looked up at him.

"He must have burst a bag!" she told him, "He's overdosed!"

"Fuck, fuck," Impactor repeated, standing over him with wide eyes, "Roadbuster, Broadside, get him up!" 

Between the four of them they managed to wrangle him a few doors down and into Sandstorm's apartment, though he'd gone still and limp by the time they had laid him out on the kitchen table.

"This never fucking happens, there's only like a three goddamn percent chance of this happening, what the fuck," Whirl babbled, "Impactor, he needs a fucking hospital or he's dead, this shit can kill in less than an _hour._ "

"Shut the fuck up, Whirl, I know that!" Impactor snapped, covering his mouth with his one good hand, brow furrowed in concentration, whale-eyed. 

"Well?!" she prompted again.

"He can't go to a hospital," Impactor stated, gaze unblinking, "He's got a kilo of cocaine in his gut and he's blood to me. No way this goes well."

Whirl blinked and then wrinkled her nose in a snarl. "You're going to let him _die?_ "

"I'm not just going to let him fucking die," Impactor snapped, "Just let me think!"

"Boss," said Roadbuster, "We have to do _something._ "

Impactor stood frozen for a moment, and to Whirl, it felt as if in that moment the rest of the world stood frozen, too. Then he spoke.

"Get me a knife."

Whirl didn't think her veins could feel any colder. "Excuse me?"

"Broadside! Knife!" Impactor snapped. Broadside flipped open a butterfly knife from his pocket and passed it to him.

"What are you doing?!" she insisted.

"We cut it out, we dump him at the ER," Impactor said, "Best chance."

"Oh, god," Whirl rasped, her hands shaking for more than one reason as, without any further hesitation, Impactor yanked up Springer's shirt and cut into his abdomen.

If Springer had been fully unconscious, he wasn't anymore, and the screaming was cutting through Whirl's head like the knife that was cutting into his gut. His arms started to flail and Broadside and Roadbuster grabbed them and held them down.

"He's your _nephew,_ " Whirl said dumbly, in shock. She had seen a lot of blood in her life, but this might be more than ever before, and it was all so sudden and so… _wrong._ "You _raised_ him."

"He's a Wrecker," Impactor snapped, grabbing a handful of packets from the well of red his hands were buried in.

"He's not going to survive this," Whirl said, running up beside him, hand uselessly on his arm, "Oh, god, just _kill_ him, don't do this while he's still fucking _alive!_ "

"Too late now!" Impactor yelled, elbowing her away, "Go get Sandstorm, tell him to start the burner car."

Whirl looked down at Springer as he shrieked, eyes streaming tears, blood coming out of everywhere it shouldn't, her vision tunnelling down to a pinprick.

She grabbed a blade from Roadbuster's waistband and made to slam it down on the poor kid's throat, desperate to end his suffering, but Roadbuster grabbed her wrist in time and yanked her away. She dropped the knife, panting, feeling like a wild animal.

"Whirl, you stupid bitch, you never fucking know when to walk away, do you?!" Impactor yelled, pointing his blood soaked blade at her, and Whirl stumbled backward, then yanked open the apartment door and _ran._

She head him yelling behind her, but Whirl was not stupid and she knew better than to stop, and leapt down from the steps as she shouldered her way out the front door and kept running. She heard it bang open behind her and more yelling, but she didn't slow from her panicked sprint, bolting right across the street and around another corner, until she saw something she'd never been happy to see before in her life: a cop.

She barely had time enough to register that he was talking to someone who'd run their car into a stop sign before she pulled back an arm and punched him right in the jaw. 

Whirl watched from the concrete, wrists behind her back and chin digging into the ground as a group of Wreckers rounded the corner and stared at her through narrowed eyes, watching from a distance. Sandstorm dragged a finger across his throat, and the cop hauled her to her feet and shoved her in the back seat of his cruiser.


End file.
